I tizzed last week (below), as you know, about the enduringly wacky antics of those crunchy radicals over at Salon. Yes, they still want you to subscribe or watch an ad. Just watch the ad. Trust me, spams for SUVs and Cascadian bookstores will not, in fact, begin to flood your mailbox.
But that's not why we're here with this brief public service announcement. This, by Heather Havrilesky, is why I keep reading the commie tripe that Salon bludgeons me with daily.
Heather Havrilesky is what I want to be when I grow up, except that, of course, I'd really like to keep my penis, and my breasts are quite large enough, thank you. I arrive at Mondays with a sense of depletion and nonfulfillment, having squandered my weekend time with whatever form of vegetation I've chosen, and Heather's (do you think she'll mind if I call her that?) writing simultaneously pumps me up and allows me to go on living, and plunges me into a pit of depression because I will never, ever, ever be that freaking brilliant or funny or talented.
She's doing us all a public service, too. I mean, unless you're Toots, do you really want to watch Fire Me, Please or Bachelorette Extreme: Daytona? No, you don't have time for that nonsense. And you should just let Heather handle it for you, and tell you about it later. Her work exposes our feeble efforts at television writing as the hackneyed crap it is. She has superceded Banjo the Clown in my personal pantheon, and that's saying something.
So thank you, Heather Havrilesky, for brightening my every Monday. And fuck you, too, because I have to go wallow in self-pity now, you gruesomely talented bitch.
16 comments:
I once sent Heather an email inviting her to come to that other place, but to the best of my knowledge, she never did. Pity that.
Are you sure you worded that precisely enough that she understood what you were inviting her to do?
Having squandered your weekend?!?
Do you think "Hey hot stuff want to come see my large post?" was sufficiently instructive?
It totally would have worked for me dweeze. I don't know what her problem is.
Yes, well, don't think that "squandered" and "depletion" and "nonfulfillment" are word choices that make me blissfully happy, either, Germie.
Guess it's time to buy new lingerie.
Did he steal the old lingerie?
He said something about selling it to you.
This chain of commentary has evolved past the point where it's my responsibility.
I paid top dollar for what he claimed was porn star worn lingerie and it was yours? Does he have any idea how much more I would have paid if I had known that?
Today I was particularly taken with this sentence. "While at first it might have seemed odd to pair up nerds with bosomy bimbos, the nerd-bimbo genre is like a flightless bird that learned to roll cigarettes with its useless little wings."
And she had the class to make fun of the image at the end. There is only one Heater.
THANK YOU! That was the funniest thing I've read since your last Survivor summary, Landru. I think I'm in love with Heather. In love enough that I'd sit through several ads just to read her stuff.
Thanks again!
Kim doesn't like it when you use Polk as a verb.
If long-nosed nitpicker isn't a shout-out to me, I don't know what is.
Wait. I guess long-nitted nosepicker would be a shout-out to me. Nevermind.
Polk salad Annie?
YOu funny, Dweeze.
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